


Flower Child

by SpicedGold



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Flowers, Ino-centric, New Parents, Struggles of getting pregnant, kinda introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: Ino is surprised by how much she wants this – the idea of having a baby, of holding one and loving one and watching one grow up makes a warm glow start in her belly and spread throughout her body, and she’s certain this is something that can be nothing but happy. She wants a baby, she yearns for a baby, and she is going to get one.





	Flower Child

Sakura starts it. She arrives at Ino’s house one morning, all smiles and rosy-cheeks, and Ino knows something is up.

“Sasuke and I are trying to have a baby,” she announces, with a bubbly laugh.

And for a moment Ino struggles to comprehend her friend’s words. Then she grins as well, overcome with sudden emotion. “Oh my god, that’s _amazing_!”

And not to be outdone, she boasts, “Sai and I have been talking about it as well.”

Its not a lie per se, she has brought it up exactly once. Dropping it casually when Sai was completely absorbed in a painting and had given nothing more than a noncommittal ‘hm’ to every previous question.

“You do want kids, right?”

“Hm.”

That didn’t exactly count as confirmation, so she brings it up again once Sakura leaves.

“I want a baby.”

Sai pauses, frowning slightly as he tries to backtrack through their conversation to figure out where it had started. He ventures, with caution, “You mean a small human?”

“Yes. A small human. That we made.” Ino looks at him beseechingly, pretty blue eyes and pouted lips and she can see him fight down a smile.

“I think I would like that,” Sai says. The concept of starting a family sounds pleasant – Sai likes things that make him _feel_ , and Ino’s eagerness is contagious, and makes him feel excited and happy.

“You’ll love it,” Ino declares. “We can start tonight.”

 

She needs to talk it over with Chouji and Shikamaru though, because their clans are linked, and the next generation of Ino-Shika-Cho need to be born in the same year. Chouji and Karui are happy with her decision – it turns out Chouji was planning to broach the subject anyway.

Shikamaru and Temari prove to be a bit more reluctant.

“This year?” Shikamaru sighs. “Already? You don’t want to wait another year, or three?”

It turns out that he and Temari are still arguing over the clan tradition – with Temari making the rather valid point that she isn’t some sort of baby making machine that kowtows to whatever ancient and outdated tradition the clans made up years ago. Ino will concede her point, but she still wants to get a ‘yes’ from them.

Shikamaru accidently fixes the problem for her, muttering in a voice Ino is certain Temari wasn’t supposed to hear, “It’s not like you’re getting any younger . . .”

The rampage that follows is catastrophic, but it ends with Shikamaru pinned to a wall with Temari’s hand fisted in the front of his shirt, glaring daggers at him and snarling something that Ino tries not to overhear. She and Sai stand out of the way as Shikamaru is dragged off, protesting something.

Chouji and Karui decide that it’s settled then, and go home. Just to be sure, Ino tentatively finds Temari the next day, clearing her throat softly and asking, “Is everything okay with you and Shikamaru? And . . .?”

“We’re fine,” Temari says breezily.

“And about the baby conversation . . .” She treads lightly, because Temari is volatile and unpredictable – even to Shikamaru. “Are you . . . okay with that?”

“It’s a bit sooner than we were planning,” Temari admits. “But we had spoken about it before. Clan tradition and all that shit. So, yeah, we’re on board.”

With all potential obstacles out the way, Ino pins Sai down to finalize details. Time off work, house planning, the fact that she was going to get fat and would need his on-going support . . . They talk it all out, and Ino is ready.

 

Her next period is late, and Ino is bubbly and excited. The pregnancy test is negative, but those things aren’t always accurate. The next test is negative as well, but she doesn’t lose hope. She has a stash of them in the bathroom cabinet, which bewilders Sai at first, but he learns not to question her.

She’s disappointed when blood spots her underwear the next day. Sai seems somewhat relieved to have a few days off from baby making duty. He paints the baby’s room instead. There are flowers painted around the windows and the door frame, because he knows Ino loves flowers, and he wants the baby to grow to love something that means so much to her.

 

Ino is surprised by how much she wants this – the idea of having a baby, of holding one and loving one and watching one grow up makes a warm glow start in her belly and spread throughout her body, and she’s certain this is something that can be nothing but happy. She _wants_ a baby, she _yearns_ for a baby, and she is going to get one.

Pregnancy fascinates Sai, and he collects numerous books on the subject, occasionally coming to Ino with questions. She takes to testing herself weekly. Sakura is already pregnant, and it frustrates Ino. She doesn’t want to be left behind.

Sakura explains that it may take a few months for the birth control drugs to wear off, and she shouldn’t expect to get pregnant before September or October anyway. (Ino knows this, but . . .) Ino is not patient, and not used to waiting. She wants this _now_ , and the fact that nothing is happening does not do much for her mood.

At the next team lunch, she bristles as she recounts her struggles.

Chouji nods sagely, quietly agreeing with her, but he refuses to answer her questions about how things are going with Karui, and that is suspicious enough. Ino is certain Karui is pregnant already, and Chouji isn’t allowed to say anything yet.

Shikamaru has undertaken this task with his usual enthusiasm – which isn’t much. He slouches in his seat, listening to the conversation and enduring Ino’s inclination to share information he would rather not know, but contributes little. He yawns right over her next rant, and Ino finally snaps at him, “Did you not sleep last night or something?”

“I lay down a lot, but I didn’t sleep much.”

Ino snorts. “Aw, poor you, how you must be suffering.”

Shikamaru flashes her a lazy smirk, and she knows he’s having too much fun listening to her. She calls him a jerk, and he accepts that with grace, and the conversation floats into more neutral territory.

 

October flows by, and nothing has changed. Sakura’s belly is showing, and it drives Ino mad. Sai suffers through the next few weeks in silence, and the new year rolls over with more negative tests.

She still isn’t pregnant, and its beginning to stress her out.

Especially when her friends are already a step ahead of her.

Kauri and Chouji make their announcement at the end of January, and not even four weeks later Shikamaru flops dramatically onto the grass where they are meeting for a picnic lunch, stating that Temari will be late because she’s ‘trying to puke that baby up and told me to go ahead’.

Ino is happy for her team, she really is, but she’s also growing increasingly frustrated. She takes another pregnancy test when she gets home. Like all the others, it’s negative. It’s been months of trying, and she’s getting edgy and tense. She can’t fall behind. She can’t be a year behind.

The baby can’t be a year behind.

She makes Sai take a fertility test – Chouji is mortified at her audacity, Shikamaru laughs until he chokes, and Sai just does as he’s told.

Two days later, Shikamaru offers a tentative suggestion. “You made Sai get tested. Did you think about testing yourself?”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” she asks sharply, blue eyes lighting with fire.

Chouji quiets, eyes darting between them. If things escalate, he has an excuse ready – Karui needs him for something, anything. He has utilized it before.

Shikamaru holds her gaze. “You know exactly what it means.”

“How dare you?” she splutters. “Are you implying there’s something wrong with me?”

He stares at her with his patented Nara deadpan. She realises the truth in what he’s saying, and calms down slightly. Sheepishly, embarrassed, she murmurs, “I’ll think about it.”

 

She bribes Temari to come with her to the hospital. Sakura is away from Konoha with Sasuke, and Ino is terrified to go alone. It doesn’t take much to bribe Temari – one packet of roasted chestnuts later and the Suna kunoichi is sitting at Ino’s side as she shyly recounts all the problems so far to the far too understanding doctor on duty.

All her test results come back negative. There’s nothing wrong with her – and she doesn’t know if she feels relieved or even more frustrated. She corners Temari again – all it took was a smoothie; she’s incredibly easy to handle while she’s pregnant and Ino wonders if Shikamaru has noticed – and demands to know if her baby kicks.

“What, this thing?” Temari snorts. She pokes experimentally at her belly. “Doesn’t move at all. That’s a damn Nara in there.”

She’s three months along and it fills Ino with a sense of urgency. It’s March already. The pressure is on.

Sai does not get much sleep that night.

 

A week later Ino vomits up her breakfast ten minutes after finishing. She whips another pregnancy test out of the bathroom cabinet, and drinks a gallon of water in one sitting.

 

When her pregnancy test comes back positive, she screams so loudly that Sai dashes into the bathroom with his tanto in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, looking ready to do battle with whatever he finds.

Needless to say, he’s momentarily baffled as she throws her arms around his neck, crying into his chest, but he’s learned enough about living with her not to question it. He puts his weapons down softly, returns her embrace, and when she calms down enough to explain what had happened, he doesn’t know how to react.

For a moment he is stunned into silence. Then a strange feeling blossoms in his chest. Its hot, and big, and he grips her tightly, hearing her laugh, and feeling the urge to do so as well.

 

A letter from Sakura arrives a few days later. Ino spends almost ten minutes looking at the photograph that came with it. She doesn’t know how Sakura got it, because there is no way Sasuke consented to it. He is staring in bewildered wonderment at the bundle in his arms; all Ino can see is a round face with enormous dark eyes and a fluff of black hair.

She blames the hormones when Sai finds her still crying hours later.

 

It’s the middle of June when she wakes up in the night, stomach cramping painfully, biting back cries. She doesn’t need to wake Sai; he’s up and hovering over her, and his question of how she’s feeling dies on his lips as she lets out a strangled sound of agony.

He carries her to the hospital, and she’s never been more frightened in her life. What if something happened? What if the baby’s hurt? What did she do to him? What is she doing wrong?

The thought of losing him – Sai had long decided it was a boy – tightens around her chest, and she whimpers and sobs throughout the night, answering questions the best she can through a haze of tears, and imploring, “Please don’t lose my baby. Please do something . . .”

By some stroke of luck, Tsunade is in the village. She takes charge easily, barking out orders, reaching chakra into Ino, and Ino relaxes a fraction knowing she is in the best possible hands. She’s not sure who spilled the beans, but three hours later Chouji is there too, standing stoically at Sai’s side. Shikamaru arrives shortly afterwards, towed behind Temari.

The baby makes it. Ino cries tears of relief. Sai, stony-faced and whiter than usual, stays at her side until she’s released from the hospital. He doubles his efforts to take the pressure off her. She is removed from the mission roster, and told to take it easy.

She doesn’t dare do anything too strenuous. She sleeps nestled into Sai’s side while he draws flowers for her. She doesn’t stray too far from home. She worries continuously. Sai won’t let her water the plants. He gets nervous thinking about her picking up buckets of water. He makes sure she is comfortable when she sleeps.

She misses a night of sleep only once – when Temari’s D-rank mission becomes a B-rank and Shikamaru flips his lid when the message arrives, pacing his kitchen over and over. Ino had dropped by to check on him – she is only half an hour ahead of the poor genin who delivers the scroll, who is locked into place in the kitchen while Shikamaru lets loose all the fury and tension he’s never bothered to use in his life.

“I told her to stop missions! I told her it was too much at this stage! I told her it wouldn’t end well – I told her!”

She waits out his tantrum. She makes him tea, makes him sit down, and they talk late into the night.

Temari comes home two days later. Ino is checking on Shikamaru again – she has been subject to the ‘I told her’ rant three times now – when Temari saunters in as though nothing has happened, and before Shikamaru can leap to life she has intercepted smoothly, clamping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t even say a word.”

Ino waits, wondering how this will turn out.

“I’m fine. The baby’s fine. And I’m telling you this now because I know you’ll find out somehow and yell at me – I fell. And it’s fine. Just lost my balance. It’s not a big deal.” She finally notices Ino, and brightens, “Hi Ino. How are you?”

“Fine,” Ino says slowly, looking at Shikamaru’s slowly colouring face.

He pulls Temari’s hand away. “Fine? It’s _fine_? You’re six months pregnant, what irresponsible idiot assigned you a mission away from home? What do you mean you fell? From _where_? Onto _what_?”

It’s a fascinating glimpse into their lives. Shikamaru – usually so composed and laid back, suddenly bursting with emotion. Temari – the hot-headed, stubborn queen of the world, who places her hands on her hips and gives him a look, just letting him get all his ranting out. It’s so different from her and Sai. Ino doesn’t think Sai’s raised his voice once since she told him she was pregnant.

She leaves around the time Shikamaru deflates, laying his face against Temari’s neck. He is faintly shaking. Temari wraps her arms around him, smiling at Ino over his shoulder, and mouthing “Thank you,” at her. Ino knows they’ll be fine.

She folds her hands over her belly as she walks home, and hopes everything stays fine for her as well. She cuddles up to Sai that evening, trying to press as close to him as she can.

He’s drawing lavender. He leaves his drawings scattered around the house for her to find. There are bluebells in the kitchen, and orchids in the lounge, and Ino frames the baby’s breath in the bathroom. She’s in there a thousand times a day anyway with her baby taking up residence against her bladder, and its nice to have something to look at during her frequent trips.

She likes the idea of her child growing up surrounded by Sai’s beautiful flowers.

 

Chocho is born first. Ino and Shikamaru wait at the hospital in support of their team mate. Sai is uncomfortable and waiting outside. Temari wanders off for snacks after ten minutes, makes a bathroom trip, then tries to drag Shikamaru away for a walk.

“Woman, you have _got_ to be kidding me,” he grumbles, resisting her attempts to manhandle him. “Not now. You shouldn’t even be standing for this long.”

Eight months of pregnancy has done nothing to dull Temari’s usual spunk and fire, and Ino finds herself exhausted trying to keep up with her. Now, she sits quietly, with her feet aching, wondering how Temari has the strength to stand up, let alone try to haul Shikamaru around.

“Sit,” he eventually orders, instantly resorting to bribery when Temari’s face shuts down into a scowl, “I’ll get ice cream on the way home. And strawberries. And peanut butter. Just sit down, you know the doctor said to take it easy.”

Ino rests her hands over her stomach, wishing the baby would squirm about. He’s quiet at the moment. She supposes he’s sleeping. Sai comes back after a while, suitably calmed down, and it’s not long until Chouji emerges, red-faced and smiling.

The little girl is plump and dark-skinned, and Ino feels the first twinges of maternal instinct, the urge to take hold of that child, to protect her, flaring up inside her. Her baby writhes in response to her rising emotions.

Chouji is smitten. He grins so wide Ino’s afraid his face is going to split. He coos and gushes, and is so gentle, so natural, so ready for his new role as a father. It makes Ino impatient, wanting that for herself. She wants her baby _now_ , she wants to see Sai looking the way Chouji looks.

He pores over his books every night, absorbing all the information he can. He asks Chouji endless questions, he fawns over Ino, over-protective and over-indulgent, and she has to remind herself that this is just as new for him as it is for her. He doesn’t know what a family is, but he’s trying so hard that it makes her love him even more, filled to the brim with raw, hot emotions.

He draws flowers on her belly in baby blue ink until he runs out. Then purple, then green, then pink. He lies for hours with his ear resting against her. He looks anxiously at the calendar, knowing how important it is that this baby comes before the new year, because that’s all Ino wants.

The due date is sometime in the last week of December. Ino hopes and prays that the baby won’t be a year behind.

Sakura’s letters come frequently, with photos. Sarada is already experiencing the world, and Ino’s little baby bump is only just starting to get in the way.

 

Shikamaru is a nervous wreck. He plans for every little thing that can go wrong. He has driven Temari to the point of madness with his obsessing, growing ever more frenetic as the month of September passes.

Ino brings him whiskey for his birthday. He has the first glass at the hospital, pacing hysterically around the room, while Temari flips through a magazine, and makes pointed remarks about the time between contractions and the inherent laziness of the Nara clan. She is in labour for more than twenty-four hours.

It’s the first birthday of Ino’s that Shikamaru has ever missed, but she finds it easy to forgive. She can’t help but find a wry irony in being over-shadowed. She gets to the hospital in the evening to find Shikamaru lying on the bed next to Temari, asleep and ghostly pale.

Temari is wide awake, looking considerably better than her husband, and Ino meets little Shikadai. His eyes are exquisite. She feels a writhing in her belly, and knows, just _knows_ , that her baby will make it before January, and he will grow up right next to Shikadai and Chocho, exactly the way she grew up next to Shikamaru and Chouji.

 

She gets sick in October, shivering and vomiting and sweating nonstop. She does not resist when Sai takes her to the hospital, too overcome with worry to even pretend she can handle it alone. The baby has been quiet for hours, not moving at all, and Ino feels a horrible twist of dread. What if something happened? What if they lose the baby?

She spends most of the first day crying into Sai’s shirt. The feeling that her baby is slipping away from her is the most awful feeling she has ever experienced. It tears at her, shredding her confidence, stripping away all that she’s looked forward to.

The hospital asks Sai what he wants to do – Ino’s very sick, but treatment might hurt the baby, might force a miscarriage. Letting her battle it out alone will be just as dangerous, and if she gets any worse her body might reject the baby anyway. He cannot decide, and puts the question to Ino.

She weighs the odds, grits her teeth, and toughs it out. Four days of being in a feverish haze breaks when she feels the baby kick strongly. He’s still there, still with her. She walks out the hospital with an expression of pure relief, Sai supporting her, and a bush clover painted on her stomach.

It has become Sai’s favourite to paint.

 

Sarada can stand unassisted now. She tries sometimes to take a few steps, but so far has succeeded only in falling down every attempt.

It’s early December, and the weather is awful. Ino sits back on Shikamaru’s couch, hands resting on the bulge of her stomach, watching Sarada pull herself up for another attempt. Sakura is chatting idly. It’s the three of them again – Ino, Sakura and Temari.

Shikamaru is working – he left the house threatening to put Kakashi’s head on a spike, because it’s a Sunday and he intended to spend it with his family – and Sai is on a mission away for a few days, due back in the morning. It will be his last one away, because they are expecting the baby any time after the twentieth.

Shikadai is half asleep on Temari’s lap, beautiful green eyes drooping closed. The wind is howling outside, and it frequently draws Sarada’s attention, but Shikadai hasn’t even looked up. Ino is lost in thought.

There has been frost this year. Its not uncommon for it to snow in Konoha in winter, but rarely does the snow lie for longer than a few days at a time. The climate is too humid. So far there have been two snowfalls. Ino and Sai had trudged along through it side by side. They had not built a snowman, because the days of Ino being able to bend past her enormous belly had long since ceased.

The flowers had all died. The frost and snow had decimated all the plants outdoors – including the bush clover she had been carefully cultivating. She was sheltering those left in the shop, keeping the doors closed, keeping things as warm as possible.

The roses need pruning. And the lavender needs to be moved somewhere else, where it can soak up the sunlight. The orchids that Sai likes to sketch need to be fed, and she wants to move the irises into the house, where she can see them.

She is planning what to do when she gets home when she feels the first twinge of pain. She ignores it; it’s not the first time. These mild contractions are to be expected in the last month. There’s at least two weeks to go for the baby is due.

But then the next wave of agony hits, and she grits her teeth, a strangled sound escaping her against her will.

She hasn’t even finished hissing in pain before Sakura is right in front of her. “Ino? What are you feeling?”

“It hurts,” she whimpers, trying to bend over, to somehow alleviate the pressure. “It really, really hurts.” She is panicking, because it can’t be now. Now is too soon. It must be something else, she cannot accept that she is going into labour this early. Not her tiny, delicate baby, he isn’t ready for the world yet.

Sakura leaves Sarada with Temari, and gets Ino to the hospital.

It is no less terrifying there. Her waters break almost as soon as she’s inside the building, and she collapses into tears, clutching onto Sakura for dear life. She begs, fruitlessly, for this to stop, for someone to fix it, because its not time, and Sai isn’t here, and nothing is going right and it hurts so badly -

“It’s too early,” she says, feeling tears streak her cheeks. “It’s too early, he’s not supposed to come yet. He has to wait for Sai – tell him to wait, tell him its not time-“

Thank god for Sakura, who holds her hand and says softly, “You can’t tell the baby anything. He’s coming now, Ino. Sai’s on his way. Temari’s sending a message right now.”

“It’s too early –“

“I know. Everyone knows. We’re ready. It’s going to be fine.”

“It’s not fine, and Sai needs to be here – I’m not having this baby now.”

“It’s not really your choice,” Sakura says sensibly. She is filling two roles easily – doctor and friend, offering both comfort and professionalism. Her chakra flow is gentle and warm, and Ino relaxes just a fraction.

Hours of unyielding pain later, she is exhausted, sweaty, and out of tears. Sakura has a deep frown on her face. She and another doctor trade looks, a silent conversation between them, and Ino feels her heart clench.

“What?” she asks, faltering. “Sakura?”

“Something’s wrong,” Sakura says. “We’re going to do surgery.”

“No,” Ino blanches white. “No, don’t do that.”

“There aren’t any other options,” Sakura says. “You can’t do this on your own, and we need to consider the baby. It’s the best thing for him.”

“But Sai . . .”

Sakura makes a quick decision. “We’ll wait another hour. That’s all.”

 

Sai is there in twenty minutes, breathing heavily, with a streak of blood across his cheek and dark ink staining his shirt and arms. Ino grabs for him, unable to explain anything through a wave of fresh tears.

Sakura catches him up on the situation, but the word ‘surgery’ pierces Ino’s heart, and she can barely breathe through the fear. She grips Sai’s hand for as long as she is able to, until Sakura gently pulls them apart. “Ino, we have to go into surgery now.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Right with you,” Sakura confirms. “Trust me. Everything will be fine.”

Her heart is pounding, and the baby has been still for too long. The constant movement has stopped. The pain is relentless and cramping, crushing her insides, and she is terrified about what the pain is doing to the baby.

She can hear Sakura murmuring words of encouragement, holding her hand as the world slips away into nothing.

 

Ino wakes up to a world of white. It takes her a moment to focus her eyes. The hospital room is bright, and she feels heavy and groggy. Her hand moves, to take up its usual position atop the bulge that has been her constant companion for months.

It is no longer there, and consciousness comes rushing back. “Sai!”

There’s a scrambling sound to her left, then Sai’s face appears questioningly.

“Where’s my baby? Is he alright? Please tell me he’s fine. Oh, Sai, did something happen, where is he?”

Sai hesitates, just long enough for Ino’s heart to sink. She swallows hard. _Please let everything be alright . . ._

“Sakura has him,” Sai says.

“Sai, what aren’t you telling me? Is he alright?” The fact that Sai has said ‘him’, confirming that she has a son, has yet to fully penetrate. She glares daggers at him.

Sai looks like he doesn’t know how to answer. “Maybe . . .”

“Maybe?”

“He’s . . . Sakura has him,” he repeats, as though this is the only information he has access to.

The fear that twists in Ino’s stomach feels like ice and steel, and she bites back tears. “Sai . . . will he be okay . . .?”

She can see him processing her question and deciding on an answer. He almost nods, stops himself, and stands perfectly still. After a moment, he adds quietly, “I’ll go find Sakura.”

 

It’s the longest two minutes of Ino’s life.

Sakura looks as tranquil as usual, offering a smile. “Relax. He’ll be fine.”

Ino doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

“I’m more worried about you than him,” Sakura admitted. “He’s in NICU –“

“That’s not good,” Ino blanches.

“Because that’s where I was working,” Sakura finishes. “Shizune’s with him now. I’ll bring him to you once you’ve had something to drink and look a bit more awake.” She sends Sai a glance. “And you, too. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Sai just stares at her blankly. He’s rubbed at the blood on his cheek, but all that did was spread it around, and Ino knows the look he’s got – the one where he is overwhelmed, and doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

“Sai,” she says gently. “Go wash up quick. Take a moment.”

He knows what that means – that Ino has recognised his discomfort and has given him permission to go away, to do whatever he feels he needs. Sometimes that’s to retreat further into himself, sometimes its to let all his feelings out. Whatever he needs, he can do. So he nods, and leaves the room.

Ino tries to sit up a bit straighter, and winces at a sudden pain across her abdomen. She glances downwards, lifting the light sheet covering her. There’s a neat white dressing crossing her stomach.

“You’ll probably always have a scar,” Sakura says apologetically. She hands Ino a mug of tea. “Your days of wearing crop tops are over.”

“Like that’s gonna stop me,” Ino grumbles. She sips her tea. “Is he really alright?”

“He’s fine. Just a bit small. Just keep an eye on him, and keep him warm, and everything should be fine.”

“Has Sai seen him?”

Sakura shakes her head. “He stayed with you. He told me to do whatever I needed to, but he wouldn’t let you be alone.”

Sakura explains to her how everything went – “Surgery was great, actually. No complications at all. And the baby’s doing well. I’ll let Sai bring him to you once he’s back. Fair warning, he can scream really loudly.”

“Sai, or the baby?” Ino jokes.

Sakura returns her grin. “Probably both.”

They chat idly for a few more moments, before Sai returns. He’s still pale and drawn, but his face is scrubbed clean, and Ino can see the lines of tension in his shoulders have relaxed fractionally. He points to the door, “Chouji is outside.”

“You can come in,” Sakura calls.

Chouji enters, smiling and familiar, and holding onto a vase of bright blooming flowers. He zeroes in on Ino, asking anxiously, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She is relieved to see him. He has always been a steady friend.

“Sai, follow me.” Sakura stands up. “We’ll fetch the baby.”

As Sai trots obediently behind Sakura, Ino studies the flowers in Chouji’s hands.

“Where did you get flowers?” Ino asks. “At this time of year?”

Chouji shifts in place. “Karui brought them from Kumo.” He smiles, bright and cheerful. “She had taken Chocho to visit her family, and knew you liked them.”

How Karui managed to keep flowers alive on a several day trip while also carrying and caring for a baby would forever remain a mystery. Ino’s eyes blurred with tears. “Thank you . . .”

Her blubbering is thankfully put on hold when Sai re-enters the room, carefully holding their baby close to his chest, and taking small, measured steps, as though he’s afraid walking too fast will break the baby apart. Sakura is behind him, encouraging, “You’re doing fine, Sai. Keep going.”

Ino feels herself melt at Sai’s expression – a concentrated frown, all his attention focused on his task of carrying his new child without incident. She blinks the tears away.

Sai looks very proud of himself as he stops next to Ino’s bed, and lowers his precious cargo carefully, as though handing over a volatile explosive. Ino cradles her child, heart almost bursting. He’s pale pink, so small and delicate, with wispy white blond hair. Ino doesn’t think she’s ever been so in love.

“Hey,” she whispers, not wanting to wake him. “Hi, little guy.”

Its been a struggle and a heart ache and a nightmare to get to this point. Months of worrying, and waiting, and stressing, but suddenly none of that matters because there’s a tiny person nestled against her chest. He squirms slightly, and his face scrunches with effort.

Then suddenly his eyes are open, and Ino swears her heart stops for a moment. He looks right through her, with gorgeous blue eyes the colour of the sky and all of Ino’s dreams, and she doesn’t even pretend to hold back her tears.

There are so many feelings blooming inside her, and none of them could be put into words. “Look at him, Sai,” she chokes out. “He’s so beautiful.”

She presses her lips to his forehead; he’s warm and soft, and she inhales deeply. He smells clean and new, and she can’t wait to get him home, to smother him in kisses and love, to study every inch of him, to watch Sai trace flower patterns on his stomach, because she knows he will.

She murmurs against his skin, “Hello, flower child.”

And the world has never seemed brighter and better.

 

She is allowed home from the hospital several days later. Shikamaru has not visited her yet, and she finds it very odd. No one seems to know where he is, and even Chouji – who cannot lie to save his life – seems genuinely confused as to the whereabouts of his friend and team mate.

Sai lets her carry Inojin as they walk home together, although he hovers. He is fiercely over-protective of them both, and it warms Ino’s heart. When they get home, they both pause.

The house is filled with flowers.

Daisies, to be exact. Pots and pots of them.

“Oh,” Ino says, because she has to say something. Daises mean new life, purity and innocence. A perfect flower for a birth.

In winter.

“Where did . . .?”

Sai looks just as baffled as his wife, and she knows he had nothing to do with this. That leaves only one person. “Shikamaru!”

“It wasn’t my idea,” comes the drawling reply. Shikamaru comes from the kitchen, trying his best to look nonchalant. He shrugs, looking around the room. “Are daisies right?”

“Yes,” Ino says faintly. Inojin squirms in her arms. “Shikamaru . . . its _winter_. Where did these come from?”

“Ah,” he rubs the back of his neck. “When you went into labour, Kakashi said I could take a few days off. I sent a message to Suna. Kankuro met me half way with the flowers. They’ve been growing in the green house there, ever since you said there wouldn’t be flowers for your baby.” He looks sheepish now. “You’ve had a hard time, and Temari said you wanted flowers. Also we missed your birthday . . .”

“Sai,” Ino says, eyes not leaving Shikamaru. She can’t believe her lazy, good for nothing team mate and close friend went through all this effort. “Hold Inojin, please.”

Sai takes Inojin from her the same way one might take a glass bomb, tentative and uncertain and frowning in concentration. Ino closes the distance between her and Shikamaru, wrapping her arms around him and embracing him hard.

“People are going to start thinking you’re nice, if you keep doing things like this,” she murmurs.

“My reputation as a lazy bastard is well established. I’ll be fine.”

Ino laughs softly. She takes a step back. “Didn’t Temari mind you being away for a few days?”

“Nah,” Shikamaru’s voice is tinged with amusement. “She kicked me out anyway because I told her she’d gained weight. Which she has,” he says, suddenly on the defensive as Ino backs away and eyes him. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a fact. Anyway, she told me to get lost. And to stop being a jerk.”

“I don’t know if she’s forgiven you,” Ino says, eyes blurring with tears again – so her hormones are still haywire, good to know, “But I think you’re wonderful.”

“I am,” Shikamaru agrees with a smile. He looks at Sai, who is staring at Inojin with enraptured wonderment. “Sai? I got you something too.” He reaches into his pocket and draws out a small bottle. “I can’t take credit for this either, this was Chouji’s idea. This ink is made from some sort of flower in Suna – Temari knows, if she ever speaks to me again I’ll ask her – and it’s blue.”

Sai will not relinquish Inojin, so Ino takes the bottle from Shikamaru, and looks at it. The ink inside is pale blue, swirling slightly and looking almost ethereal. She parts her lips to speak, but Shikamaru is already halfway out the door. “I’ll leave you alone. Good luck with the kid.”

Ino doesn’t know how much fuller her heart can be, it already feels bursting. She turns to Sai, and he glances up at her, dark eyes warm and achingly proud.

By the time she falls asleep that night, there is a portrait next to their bed, of her beautiful flower child drawn in sky blue flower ink.

 

Inojin has eaten three daisies already, thrown them back up, and tried to eat his fist. Sai is questioning his intelligence, but Ino is quite happy.

She surrounds him with flowers, snapping dozens of photos. He pulls the daisy crown off his head, and it, too, goes into his mouth.

“That’s enough,” Sakura says, although Ino isn’t sure if she’s talking to her, or to Sarada, who has discovered the joys of walking, and has been puttering back and forth with deliberate steps all morning.

Ino removes the daisies, and Inojin gurgles in response, kicking his little legs and waving his arms around wildly. He tires quickly, and soon his eyes droop closed. Ino picks him up, holding him close, breathing in his scent. Now he smells like lavender and chamomile, and she smiles against his fluffy pale hair.

He smiles at the flowers, he smiles at Sai’s brushes as he moves them around through the air, he smiles at everyone who crosses his eye line. He’s beautiful and bubbly, and Ino couldn’t imagine life being any more perfect.

On the morning of Inojin’s first birthday, Ino awakes to a portrait of her son, in flower blue ink, surrounded by daisies.

And his second birthday.

And his third.

There is a painting every year, of her son growing up in blue and blossoms.

And he names each one the same – “Our flower child.”


End file.
